


Tell Me Something Real

by twdsunshine



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: F/M, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-14
Updated: 2019-02-14
Packaged: 2019-10-28 09:38:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17784995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twdsunshine/pseuds/twdsunshine
Summary: The reader doesn’t care about Valentine’s Day.  Or at least that’s what she tells herself.  And why would she, when Negan’s sure to choose to mark the occasion with one of his many wives, rather than the girl he uses as an easy escape?  So, when the man himself turns up at her door intent on showering her with romance, she can’t help but feel that there might be more to it than meets the eye…





	Tell Me Something Real

**Author's Note:**

> This is my entry for @annablack1102‘s Negan Fic Exchange on Tumblr! ❤ My fic was written for @amethyst-dreams-and-candy-canes and my prompt was ‘You’re holding back on me.’ I really hope you enjoy it! Happy Valentine’s Day!

You didn’t care about Valentine’s Day.  

You didn’t.

Not one little bit.

You never had done, even on the few occasions when you had actually happened to have a boyfriend when the holiday rolled around.  You didn’t get weak-kneed over big bunches of flowers and soppy cards full of overly-sentimental verses.  You didn’t wish for sweet, romantic meals in dimly-lit restaurants, a table for two and delicate flutes of champagne.  You didn’t long to be treated like a princess, showered with exaggerated affection, just because it was that time of year again.  Nope, something about Valentine’s Day left you cold, and you were perfectly happy to ignore it and go about your business as usual.  And yet…

For some reason, this year, leaving the occasion to pass by unmarked was niggling at you, itching beneath your skin, making you feel antsy and uncomfortable.  You’d decided to skip the evening meal in the canteen, not wanting to dine amongst the many couples sure to be trying to summon up some kind of special mood, lost in their little bubbles, oblivious to those around them.  Instead, you’d hurried back to your room and shut the door on the rest of the Sanctuary, throwing yourself onto your bed and sighing loudly at your own stupidity.  

You hadn’t expected him to do anything, not really.  Except, you’d thought that maybe he might.  A whispered wish as you passed in the corridor or a wink full of promise across a crowded room.  But no.  You’d been brushed aside, treated as though you were no one special, just another face amongst the many that he kept safe each and every day.  And perhaps you were.  After all, how much could you actually mean to your lover, when you were just his bit on the side to turn to when he found himself unsatisfied by his six wives?

Falling for Negan hadn’t been something that you meant to happen.  His reputation preceded him and, honestly, as a fresh-faced Savior, newly inducted to the community and everything that it had to offer, you were terrified of the man.  His size was intimidating, his smile laced with arrogance, and you knew he could be dangerous if anybody dared to cross him.  But it had happened so slowly that you’d barely noticed how far gone you were until it was too late.  It started with soft quirks of his lips meant only for you, flooding your cheeks with heat as you ducked your head to avoid the intensity of his gaze.  And then he’d choose you to ride up front with him whenever he went out with the convoy, spending the duration of the journey sharing stories and doing whatever he could to make you laugh.  When he’d invited you to join him for dinner in his room under the pretence of briefing you on a potential hit for supplies, you hadn’t thought twice about accepting, fighting down the butterflies that had fluttered to life in your stomach.  Two courses and several fingers of whiskey later, you were pinned beneath him on his bed, coming undone as he pushed you towards an overwhelming precipice, purring in satisfaction when you tumbled over the edge and fell apart.

After that, you became his secret hideaway.  He’d seek you out when his day had been long and trying, needing the quick release that you offered rather than the necessity of having to coax a wife into tending to his needs.  He’d take all of his frustrations out on you, leaving a map of bruises over your skin, and afterwards, he’d spill his secrets, holding you close as you listened intently, absorbing all of his troubles so that he could walk out several hours later feeling like a new man.  You never discussed what you were - that was off-limits - but there were numerous confessions that tortured his busy mind: his worries about the unrest in the communities under his control; his frustration with some of those high up in his ranks; the empty hollow in his chest that his late wife had left behind.  It was as though, in the darkness, he could pretend that you were a figment of his imagination, a figure he’d made up to pour out his anguish to, but, come morning, you were barely a memory.

So, there was really no reason why it would even cross his mind to come to you on Valentine’s Day.  None at all.  And you would steel yourself and pretend that it didn’t sting, just a little bit.

You pounded your fists against the mattress, once, only once, to let out the frustration that had built up within you as you pictured Negan buttering up his harem, the ones he’d made a commitment to, and then you eased yourself upright, deciding to take a shower and let the water soothe away your hurt before you attempted sleep.  You were halfway across the room, towel in hand, when the knock came on the door.

The sight of Negan leaning against the wall when you tugged the door open took your breath away.  A single red rose was clutched in his hand, and he offered it to you with a devastating grin, chuckling at your dumbfounded expression.  

‘Happy Valentine’s Day, sweetheart.’

You recovered your composure enough to take a step forward, accepting the flower and bringing it to your nose, inhaling the sweet scent and feeling your racing pulse start to calm.  ‘Where the hell did you even find one of these?’

‘Had my guys combing the state,’ he teased, smirking as you gawped at him.  ‘What?  You don’t want it?’

‘No, I do!’ you insisted.  ‘I’m just surprised, that’s all.  I didn’t expect to see you tonight.’

‘Well, where the hell else would I be?’  You could think of several good answers to that question, but before you could point that out, he was stepping back and motioning for you to join him out in the corridor with a sweep of his arm.  ‘Care to come this way, m’lady?’

 

* * *

 

No, you’d never given a damn about Valentine’s, but when Negan paused at the top of the winding metal staircase that led to the roof to allow you to pass him, and you stepped out into the night to find the space filled with the flames of flickering candles, glowing golden as though reflecting the stars that hung high in the sky above you, you couldn’t deny that your heart skipped a beat.  They formed a blanket of warmth as you followed the path that snaked between the pillars of wax, and you couldn’t help but shoot Negan a look of disbelief over your shoulder.

‘What is all this?’

‘You don’t like it?’

'I love it, but you’re gonna burn the place to the ground.’

He arched an eyebrow at you, nodding for you to carry on as he drawled, ‘It’s a calculated risk.’

A pool of shadow, kissed by the glimmering light surrounding it, alerted you to your destination, and you were met by a soft pile of blankets and pillows, alongside a wicker hamper which Negan moved as he joined you, shaking out one of the covers and gesturing for you to take a seat.  He folded his long body down beside you as you settled yourself on the ground, leaning back when he placed a couple of pillows behind you to cushion your neck and shoulders, unable to fight your smile when he hovered over you, hazel eyes burning as they raked over your face.  When he dipped his head to brush his lips over yours, you thought you might explode, and you laced your fingers into his dark locks, tousling the slicked-back style as you pulled him closer.  ‘This is incredible.’

‘Only for you, doll.’

‘But… why?’  You still didn’t understand why he wasn’t currently wrapped around one of his wives, no doubt having demanded that they don their laciest lingerie for his entertainment.

‘Why the hell not?’  Any attempts to question him further were quieted when he leaned over you to reach for the hamper, flipping open the lid and pulling out a bottle of champagne.  ‘Now, what do you say we toast this beautiful fucking evening with a little something from the top-shelf?’

The bubbles were blissful on your tongue, and you felt your confusion melt away as the alcohol relaxed you, pushing your doubts from your mind, Negan’s smooth conversation putting you at ease as he tugged one of the spare blankets over you both.  He’d brought along fresh fruit too, from the Hilltop, and bread and cheese, and you couldn’t keep the smile from your lips as you dined decadently, gazing up at the night sky.  You could feel his warmth surrounding you, and, when the meal was done, you curled into him, opening yourself up to him, letting him know you were ready and willing for what came next.

But what came next was far different to what you expected.  Usually Negan’s kisses were urgent when he came to you, his touch rough, almost to the point of being forceful, and he’d work his frustrations out on you with reckless abandon.  But now he was exploring you with gentle hands, mapping your body as though it was something precious to be treasured, and the movement of his mouth on yours was luxuriously slow as he took his time tasting you, drawing small whimpers of need from your throat.  Your own hands slid beneath the leather of his jacket, tugging at his t-shirt, eagerly seeking the feel of his skin beneath your fingertips, and he groaned deep in his chest as your nails scraped over his spine, but it did nothing to spur him on, and he continued to tantalise your senses as he lavished his attentions on every part of you.  It was like something out of a movie, the grand love scene, the epic climax, and it was about as far from the Negan you knew as you could get, as you reached up to cup his face, forcing him to break away and stare down at you with a furrowed brow.

‘Hey, is everything okay?’

His frown deepened, head cocking to one side.  ‘Course it is, princess.  It’s fucking perfect.’

Once more he moved to capture your lips, but you twisted your head away, despite the growl of frustration you received in return.  ‘Negan, this… all of this… I mean, what’s this supposed to be?’

‘What?  I can’t fucking spoil you without being interrogated now?’

‘No, no, it’s not that, I just…’  You could tell that his patience wearing and he pushed himself upright, turning his back on you as he rested his forearms on his knees.  Though you couldn’t see it, you could imagine the burnt orange of the candlelight reflected in the darkness of his eyes, and you swallowed hard as you mirrored his movements.  ‘Negan, why are you here with me?  I don’t understand.  I mean, isn’t today… Shouldn’t it really be about your wives?’  When he didn’t react, you pressed on.  ‘And all of this… I mean, we don’t do this, do we?  We don’t do romance or… We just… You come to me and I make you feel better, and then you leave and we pretend that- that there’s nothing here.  That’s how we work.  So, I’m sorry if it seems ungrateful, but I’m just a little taken aback, I guess.  I don’t understand where this has come from.’

‘Forget about it.’  When you leant forward to place a hand on his shoulder, he shrugged you off, climbing to his feet and taking a step away.  ‘I thought it would be nice to do something more for you, that’s all.  Thought I’d put the effort in for somebody that actually fucking deserved…’  He tailed off, turning to look down at you where you sat watching him, waiting.  

‘ **You’re holding back on me.** ’  It wasn’t a question.  You could feel it now, despite the soft fuzz of the alcohol that still softened your vision.  ‘Please, Negan, talk to me.  Tell me what’s going on.  Just… tell me something real.’

For a moment you thought he might leave, walk away and abandon you, lying there in amongst the detritus of your Valentine’s treat.  But then his gaze locked with yours and his chest heaved with a sigh, the tension ebbing slowly from his defensive stance.  ‘There’s a fucking war coming.’

You nodded.  That wasn’t news to you.  ‘I know.’

‘I know you know.  Of course, you fucking know.  I’d be surprised if anybody couldn’t feel it.  Rumblings in the communities, Rick the fucking prick and his band of merry men rallying the damn troops, trying to tear down everything I’ve built here.  It’s only a matter of time before shit hits the fan.’  He tilted his head back as though the heavens might provide him with the answers he seemed to need.  ‘Thing is, when you’ve got the fucking wolves at your door, baying for your blood, it makes you think, princess.  Makes you reconsider what’s important, who you hold dear, that kinda shit.  And I realised something.’

‘What is it?’  A lump had formed in your throat as he spoke and you coughed now to clear it, your voice a hoarse rasp.  ‘What did you realise?’

‘That there’s almost no one in this whole damn place that actually gives a flying fuck about me.’  You opened your mouth to argue, but he shut you down with a look.  ‘Sure, they care about the power I wield, my ability to keep them and theirs safe, make their lives a little easier.  But me, the man, who I actually fucking am… Nah, they don’t give a shit, long as they got food in their bellies and fences keeping the dead out.  And, truth be told, I’m not sure I care much more about any of them.  Wives included.’

‘Oh.’  You had no clue what else to say to that, though your heart broke for him, how lonely he must be.

‘That’s why I come to you.   You don’t fucking judge me, doll, never have.  You know what’s what, when to keep your mouth shut.  You don’t say a fucking word whenever I take what I need and walk out the door and, far as I can tell, that means that maybe, just maybe, you care.  About me.  Not your boss, not the badass swinging his bat around, but me.  And I think I love you just a little fucking bit for that.  Maybe a whole lot, actually.’

‘You… love me?’  The words sounded choked as they spilled from your lips, shock stealing your breath away.  You’d spent so long trying to push down the feelings that you had for this man, that now, in this moment, you weren’t sure how to even begin to voice them.  But there was no need to even try, as he nodded in understanding, dropping to his knees at the edge of the blanket.  ‘I-I don’t know what to… Negan, I don’t-’

‘You don’t have to say it back,’ he told you, a small smile quirking his lips as he began to crawl up your body, forcing you back down onto the cover as he held his weight over you.  ‘You might not fucking know it, doll, but I do.  It’s real.  I can see it in your eyes.  And that’s enough.  I just wanted to do something special to show you before it all kicks off.  That you’re the only one keeping me going here.  The only one keeping me fucking sane.’

It was more than you’d ever expected, more than you would have ever imagined possible when he’d set his sights on you, long months ago.  But, as his lips pressed insistently against yours, your curves melting into him as he settled himself over you, your bodies flush, breaths mingling as you fought for air amidst devastating kisses that drove any conscious thought from your mind and left you trembling with want, you couldn’t deny that a deeper affection simmered inside of you.  It swirled with the lust that pooled in your stomach, so that, even in your frenzy to feel him, to touch him, you were overwhelmed with the calming sense of coming home.  

And when he pulled away, just for a second, to whisper, ‘So, you gonna be my fucking Valentine, sweetheart?’, all you could do was nod before he reeled you back in.  And you were his.  For the holiday.  For the war to come.  For as long as he wanted you and you still had breath in your lungs.  You were totally and completely his.  He was right.  That was real.


End file.
